


only the stars have seen

by qiras



Series: reylo week 2018 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Sorry Not Sorry, aaaaand there's some smut so, also there's unplanned pregnancy because this fic is majorly self indulgent, enjoy that, everyone but rey and ben is pretty background tho, old hollywood au, they're movie stars bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qiras/pseuds/qiras
Summary: in which ben is an old hollywood movie star, and rey’s star is just rising. they star opposite each other in rey’s debut film, but there are moments between them no one knows about expect them and the night skies– moments that will change their lives.written for reylo week day 2: dark





	only the stars have seen

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna write something about possesive!ben or rey for day two, something properly angsty, but... this happened instead. it's inspired by [the music video for taylor swift's wildest dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdneKLhsWOQ), and i'm very proud of it.

i.

The first time Rey meets _him_ , it’s dark outside. She’s at another premiere party, because she might be a D-list actress at best, but if there’s one thing her agent is good at, it’s getting party invitations. And it’s the _only_ thing her agent, Mr. Plutt, is good at. She should just find someone else, but that sounds much easier than it is, and, well-- frankly, no one’s ever shown much interest.

Rey is standing alone, away from Plutt’s grubby, grabbing hands, in a small garden area outside the venue. The fringe on her (rented, twenties-style, just retro enough to be fashionable instead of outdated) silver-white dress reflects the streetlights and shimmers whenever she moves the tiniest bit. Her roommate Jess had helped her pick it out. She’s in the fashion industry, just entry-level for now, but Rey thinks she’ll be wildly successful; Jess’s styling is better than most of the professionals she’s seen.

A footstep sounds behind her and she jumps, whirling around. Her heart pounds in her throat and the cigarette she’d been smoking shakes in her hand. If Plutt catches her by herself out here...

There’s no reason to think he’d do anything, except she’s quite sure he’d do anything he could get away with.

It isn’t Plutt, though.

No, it’s a tall, dark-haired man dressed fashionably in a suit more expensive than anything she’s ever breathed on before. He’s kept his hair long, longer than is fashionable, even though filming of the movie must have been over weeks ago. Maybe he just likes his hair longer. It’s nothing to her. His eyes are still dark and large in person, and they’re even prettier now than they are on-screen.

“Hello,” she says, mouth dry. It’s the polite thing to do, after all, introduce oneself.

He merely nods at her, then says, “I haven’t seen you before.”

She raises her eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything more. Evidently, she was supposed to take that as a cue to introduce herself. Unfortunately for him, Rey has always been a contrary creature. “And? You haven’t exactly introduced yourself.”

He shrugs, and says confidently, “I don’t need to, do I?”

His arrogance would annoy her, but he doesn’t say it with arrogance, not really. And they’re at a premiere party for a movie he starred in. Everyone here certainly knows who Kylo Ren is. Everyone, _period_ , has known for at least the last five years, since after the war ended and he was in his first big movie. Still, it wouldn’t kill him to introduce himself, so she says, “Only if you wanted to be a decent person. Then again, you’re an actor.”

“Aren’t you an actress?” he replies smoothly.

“How would you know that?”

He laughs, almost cynically. “It’s Hollywood, sweetheart. Everyone acts.”

“Some of us are even good at it,” she says archly, and he laughs again, but a real laugh this time, loud and deep.

“What’s your name?” he asks with interest clear in his eyes.

“What’s yours?”

An unsettling, disarming half-smile settles on his face. “Kylo Ren. Nice to meet you...” He trails off, obviously waiting for her name.

“Rey,” she supplies. “Rey Johnson.”

“Nice to meet you, Rey Johnson.”

 

 

ii.

Her first day on set of _Wildest Dreams_ is crazy. That’s really the best word for it, the only accurate one. Everyone treats her like she’s _special_ , like she _matters_. Maybe this is how it always is for the successful actresses. Maybe she’ll find out.

When she sees Kylo again for the first time in months, her heart almost stops. It shouldn’t. She only talked to him for a few minutes so long ago, and so much has changed since then. Rey has a new agent now. His name is Finn, and he’s excellent. Anyone is a step up from Plutt, really, but Finn is several hundred steps up. For one thing, he’s made no advances on her, which is rare enough for someone in Hollywood. For another, there’s not a chance she’d have been able to get a _lead role_ in a movie alongside _Kylo Ren_ without Finn.

She still lives in her little apartment with Jess, but that will change. With the money she’s making from _Wildest Dreams_ , she could buy the whole apartment building. It’s incredible, to have survived on so little all her life and to now have access to so much, Rey hardly knows what to do with herself.

But that’s not the point. The point is somewhere in the way their eyes connect and how her skin feels when they touch for the first time. She doesn’t know what it is, but it’s _something_.

Filming doesn’t end until well past sunset, and this time, she finds him outside, alone, smoking a cigarette. “Hello,” she says again.

Without preamble, he says, “I was right.”

“Oh, really?” She raises an eyebrow and stands beside him, leans up against the brick of the building wall.

“You’re an actress.”

Rey snorts. “Impressive attention to detail.”

“And you’re a good one,” he says, and he drops his cigarette butt on the ground, rubs it out with the tip of his shoe.

“Oh.”

His eyes meet hers, and the look in them smolders brighter and hotter than any fire Rey has ever seen. Something twists in her stomach, her chest, the space between her thighs. Her breath catches. Kylo’s face is drawing closer to her, and she can count every lash around his eye--

“Rey!” Finn calls. “Are you ready to leave?”

Her head snaps around. “Yes, I’m coming!”

Kylo hasn’t moved.

“I, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Rey offers uncertainly.

“Yes,” he says, voice deep, almost hoarse.

On impulse, she reaches up to touch his face, and still he doesn’t move, like he’s afraid to move too quickly and frighten her. She stands on tiptoes and breathes just the same way. Then Finn calls her name again and she comes back to herself, snatches herself away from the scorching fire he is. “Goodbye.”

And... “Goodbye,” he whispers to her as she leaves.

 

 

iii.

Kylo shoves his hands through his hair in frustration. “Can’t we get out of here? Just... leave?” he pleads.

Rey smiles sympathetically. “You know how terribly upset Poe will be if he can’t find either of his stars.”

“I don’t care. I need to... I need to not be here.” He looks at her the way he always does, so _intense_... Rey has a suspicion Kylo never has been able to do anything halfway, and that includes this, whatever they’re doing. “Dameron!” he yells. “Rey and I are done for the day.” And he grabs Rey’s hand and pulls her along, not paying any mind to Poe’s protests.

Rey laughs breathlessly. “We’re still in costume!” she protests.

“Ah, it’ll be fine. We won’t get them dirty.” As soon as they’re outside, he turns her around so she’s backed against the brick wall (again; she can almost see their phantom selves here only a month ago on another late night) and kisses her, presses her into the wall. “I thought you wanted to go somewhere.”

He takes her hand again and they start walking. “I do.” He opens the passenger door of his car, a sleek, black, thing, and she slips in, the leather of the seat sticking to the backs of her nearly-bare legs in the hot summer night. Kylo gets in and turns the key in the ignition.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere.”

“Alright,” she says softly, and their hands rest, tangled, over the gear shift. They drive in silence. It’s incredible to her, how they’ve known each other for almost no time, yet it feels like all the time in the world. She tells him, “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” And she laughs. “I’m sorry, that’s silly.”

Kylo cradles her hand in his and brings it up to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “No. I know what you mean. I feel it, too.”

Rey lets her thumb move back and forth, stroking his hand. “What happened? What upset you?” The naked tenderness in her voice almost makes her uncomfortable, but she _trusts_ Kylo. She trusts him with every bit of her.

“I served in the war,” he says. She knew he had. It was simple reasoning. He’d been twenty when the war started, and nearly every man who was old enough had served, especially if they hadn’t any children. And there was the scar across his face. “I... got a little bit of shellshock. Not bad, but sometimes... things are too much, and if I don’t leave, it can get bad.”

“Is that why you came outside,” she asks, “the first night we met?”

“Yes.”

Rey hesitates. She doesn’t like to share bits of herself, not really. But he’s shared this with her, and it feels only fair. “Sometimes, I can’t handle things very well, either. Unkar Plutt had tried to make advances again. So I’d gone outside.”

His hand tightens around hers. She can see in his face how he dislikes the idea of someone trying to touch her like that.

“My parents... I don’t know what happened, not for certain, but I never knew them. I was raised in an orphanage by nuns. I have very few friends. No place has ever truly felt like, like _home_ to me. And standing there in the garden that night... surrounded by people who were _successful_ , who were _friends_ with each other, hiding from the person who was supposed to help me... I’ve never felt so alone.”

Kylo pulls over and cups her face in his hands, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “You’re not alone,” he says almost forcefully. Like if he says it strongly enough, she’ll have to believe him.

Rey smiles. “Neither are you.” She tilts her chin up and their lips meet again, soft and sweet and slow-burning, but _burning_ all the same. His teeth scrape over her bottom lip and she hums into his mouth. “How far away from here do you live?”

“Only about five minutes.”

“Maybe I can come over? For coffee,” she says, but they both know what she’s really offering.

“Sweetheart--” the fire in her belly roars higher-- “you can have whatever you want.”

The drive to his house is quiet, but it’s not the same quiet as before. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s not uncompanionable. But it’s tense, charged, like the air feels during a thunderstorm. They can’t keep their hands off each other, wanting, _needing_ to feel each other’s skin.

He’s kissing her again, as soon as they’re inside the house. They stumble upstairs together blindly. “Can I, _oh_ , can I tell you something?” he asks between kisses.

“Anything.”

“Kylo Ren is my stage name. My birth name is Ben Solo.” His lips are on her neck now, sucking delicate bruises into the skin.

“Oh,” she gasps, and giggles weakly. “I guess I see why you’d want to go by something else. Make it... make it on your own merit,” she says breathlessly.

“Exactly,” he mumbles against her skin.

She’s on his bed now, leaned back against the pillows, and her stomach twists at the reality of what she is doing. “Would you rather I call you Ben?”

“Yes,” he says, “but I think you can call me anything you like.” His fingers make quick work of the buttons on the back of her dress. The fabric gapes at her chest without the buttons to hold it in place, and in another few seconds, the dress is gone entirely. She doesn’t care where.

Ben slides his hands under the band of her brassiere. His fingers brush the undersides of her breasts and she gasps. “Take it off, sweetheart,” he pants. “C’mon. Let me see you, Rey.” He sits back on his heels and watches as she reaches back to unhook the garment and fling it away so her torso is bared entirely for him.

The way he looks at her is incredible, like he’s been starving his whole life and she is the only possible thing that can satiate him. He uses his hands, first. Thumbs at her, brushes her, and she moans his name (Ben Ben _Ben_ ) and begs for _more, please, more_.

His lips close around her nipple and her back arches. Her fingers tangle in his hair. “Oh, oh, that’s so good, Ben, it feels so good...” He switches to her other breast and she cries out again. Then his lips leave her breasts entirely. She whimpers at the loss.

But he lays kisses down her body, trails down her stomach, and she’s shaking again as his hands dip beneath the waistband of her panties and slide them down her legs. She nearly screams when his mouth connects with her core and she’s never felt anything like it, never knew anything could feel so _good_. He slips a finger into her and his mouth closes around her in a place she didn’t know she needed him and her eyes slam shut. It’s almost too much and not nearly enough all at the same time.

“No, no, no,” he says, rubbing at the inside of her thigh. Another finger enters her. “Open those pretty little eyes for me, sweetheart. Look me in the eyes when I make you come.”

She forces her eyes open, and the sight of him _like that_ makes her fall apart on the spot. Ben guides her through the aftershocks carefully, then moves up her body to meet her mouth and tell her, “You are the most beautiful creature on earth. I love watching you come for me.” His words make a fresh wave of heat hit her and she presses her thighs together.

“You have entirely too many clothes on,” she says.

He laughs. “I do.”

But when Ben stands to take off his shirt, Rey stops him. “Let me,” she says. “I want to.”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat when her hands slip under his shirt and pull it off over his head, but that’s nothing compared to the noise he makes when her hands move to his belt buckle. She drops to her knees in front of him and pulls his pants off, then his underwear. Rey reaches forward and touches him, and he groans. “Later, please, sweetheart. I want to be inside of you.” And Rey finds she likes that idea _very_ much. She lays back on the bed and pulls him on top of her. “Careful,” she tells him. “Go slow. I... I haven’t done this before.”

His eyes darken. “You haven’t?”

She shrugs. “Never wanted to, before.”

He kisses her like he needs to, like he can’t help himself, and when he pulls back, he strokes her face. “I don’t have much experience either,” he admits. “I didn’t care for it much.” Ben’s eyes shine out of his face. The past tense is not lost on her.

And everything about him, everything she’s heard... She knows his temper. She knows his reputation. But it’s hard to believe it, the way he acts with her, so soft and sweet. He slides inside her, slowly, carefully, and it feels strange, but not _painful_ , not really. They pause for a moment when he’s completely inside and he presses his forehead to hers and they pant together, catching their breath.

“It’s alright,” she says, “I’m alright. Move, move, please move,” she begs.

He does, hips shifting, until she finds herself at the edge of that cliff again, and with one flick of his thumb, he pushes her over, babbling in her ears, telling her how perfect she feels, how beautiful she is, and he follows her, hot and heady inside of her.

Ben collapses, panting, and she can’t catch her breath either. “Stay,” he says, almost pleads. “Stay.” 

“Of course,” she says, curling into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “Of course.”

 

 

iv.

“Do you want to go out?” Rey asks.

Ben kisses her neck, pulls her body more firmly against his. “Oh, but we’re so good at staying in.”

She laughs, a little huff of air. “We stay in all the time. Come on, let’s go get dinner.”

“I’d rather eat you,” he says conversationally.

A flush begins to spread over her face and her chest. “Well, I’m hungry. For actual _food_.”

“I can cook.” 

Rey rolls over then to look at him, look him in the eyes. “Why don’t you want to go out with me? Why don’t you want us to be seen together?”

“That’s not it,” he says, but he’s not looking at her.

“Don’t lie to me. Why don’t you want us to be seen together?”

Ben smooths his hands through her hair and kisses her desperately. She lets him, but she is only minimally responsive. “No one has to know what we do.”

Rey’s whole body tenses and recoils away from him. “If that’s how you feel...”

“No! Dammit, Rey,” he cries, “that’s not what I meant. People are terrible and cruel. They’ll say you slept with me for the part. They’ll say all sorts of cruel and awful things about you.”

“Won’t they say them anyway?” she asks, and she hates that her voice sounds so small.

Ben runs his hands through his hair like he always does when he’s frustrated. “They might, but I won’t put you through all that, not just for this.”

Rey didn’t think it was possible to feel any colder, but now, she feels _arctic_. “Just for _this_? Then what _is_ this to you?”

“I-- I don’t know,” he says, looking confused for the first time. “Just... what happens, sometimes, isn’t it? Acting spills over into real life. We’re both unattached and attracted to each other, obviously, so... it was reasonable. It’ll be over when production wraps.”

She can’t help the hot tears that spring to her eyes, but she manages to hold them back as she jumps from his bed and dresses quickly. “Yes,” she grits. “It will.”

And she runs out into the California night, vision blurred by tears, utterly heedless of the man desperately calling after her.

 

 

v. 

“Cut!” Poe yells. He beams at everyone. “I think that’s a wrap.”

The set erupts into cheers, but not Rey. Ben tries to catch her eye, but she refuses to look at him. Not here. Not now. Tonight is the end. She’s had that in her mind, known that for two weeks and four days, but she doesn’t like it. If Ben doesn’t want her anymore after this, then that’s fine. She’ll take what he’s willing to give.

And she does, later that night, mouth greedy and questing. Her hands tangle in his hair again as he brings her off with his mouth. He loves to do that. He does it nearly every time they have sex.

Rey wants to cry.

She may be inexperienced, but even she knows crying during sex isn’t usually good, so she holds it back. Until Ben whispers into the crease of her thigh (and he likes to do that, too), “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t hold back. Let go, darling, beloved. Let _go_.”

And she does, sobbing as she comes hard against his mouth. Rey would never tell him, but it has more to do with him calling her _those names_ again than anything he’s done physically. “Sorry,” she whispers, wiping at her face (still crying), “it’s just... intense.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says softly. He gathers her in his arms, putting her pieces back together, and holds her against his bare chest. “Shhh, shhh. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all, Rey.”

When she quiets, she kisses him and wraps a hand around him. “Rey... if you don’t want to...” Ben murmurs.

“I want to,” she says fiercely.

She cries again, after, like her heart is breaking. Maybe it is.

He holds her again before she leaves. She hasn’t spent the night in two weeks and five days, and she never will again.

 

 

vi.

It should’ve ended there. That should’ve been the last time. It should’ve ended there, but it didn’t. It doesn’t.

They stumble out of an interview together, caught up in the rush that hits before a movie like this, the madness of radio interviews and photoshoots and celebrations over something they’re _so sure_ is a success.

It’s been almost a year (eight months, three weeks, two days) since production for _Wildest Dreams_ wrapped. She hasn’t been with anyone else. She still doesn’t want anyone else.

She hates it.

Ben’s face appears in her dreams, in her thoughts. And maybe she was never in love with him, but she could’ve been. She could’ve been, if he would have let her.

But they’re together now, walking toward a hotel Rey could’ve only dreamed of staying at a year ago. She swears the stars sing when he kisses her, and then his hands are in her hair and his clothes scattered around her room.

Rey wakes up alone. She cries, long and hard, and swears to herself that this time, he is washed away with her tears.

 

 

vii.

The night of the premiere is terrible.

She's really not sure how it could be otherwise, with... _everything_ , but, well. Hope springs eternal.

There’d been some rain in the afternoon, which wasn’t terribly unusual for Hollywood in the late summer weeks. The pavement on the streets shines, still wet. Rey steps out of the car in a dress Jess had picked out for her again. Every part of her look, actually, from the wrap to the lipstick to the shoes, was perfectly put together by Jess and Rose, a hair and makeup girl Rey really likes.

The camera flashes make everything feel vaguely surreal. Like a dream. All the things around her lack their proper shape and definition, and the flashing bulbs dim the light of the stars above. But it’s fine, it’s fine, everything is fine. Poe calls her name and she walks over, perfectly fine.

Until she sees him.

She’d known it wouldn’t be easy to see him, but she was expecting hurt and abandonment and guilt. Not this.

Because there’s a beautiful woman on his arm, black-haired and tiny, curvy in the way that is so fashionable that Rey cannot hope to achieve. Her dress is beautiful too, of course: black, just like his. Rey’s pale pink, almost white dress suddenly feels hopelessly infantile. And they look good together, a matching pair.

Like they were supposed to be together.

Were they together? And if they were, how long had they been together? Were they together a month ago, the last time she’d slept with him?

A wave of nausea crashes over her. It’s not surprising, all things considered, but it’s worse than it has been. She laces her fingers over her stomach and lets her thumbs trace discreet circles there. Vomiting on the red carpet would certainly make headlines, albeit in a way she doesn’t especially want. A rueful smile curls the corners of her mouth.

Ben is looking at her. She knows without seeing, remembers the feel of his eyes on her like she remembers her own self. Rey does not turn her head. She is not going to look at him. If she does... (she’ll throw up run out crying yell at him and demand to know why this had to happen) it won’t be pretty.

She waves and smiles and stands where they ask her to. And Lord, Rey loves acting, but she doesn’t think she likes this.

Of course they want pictures of Rey and Ben. She acts (acting, acting, acting, all the time) like nothing is wrong, but still, she doesn’t look at him, and she flinches when he places his hand on her waist and angles her body away from him. It’s too close, too close, much too close. She really will vomit if he touches her any more.

It should be easy, once they’re all sat down to watch the film. But Ben is sitting right next to her, his date on his other side. She clings to the armrest like it can save her. Poe notices, but only makes a joke about nerves and how it’s really not that bad to watch yourself on screen. Rey manages a smile.

It’s fine, watching it. She doesn’t like watching herself act, but she didn’t suppose she would. It is painful, to watch her character Daisy fall in love with Ben’s, Adam, but she holds on, and she manages.

(Still, she can see herself falling in love with him.)

Then Daisy and Adam kiss, and Rey can’t manage any more. She stands and leaves quietly without attracting too much attention, but as soon as she’s out of the theater, she breaks into a run. Finn knows something is wrong, but he thinks it’s just a minor illness. Still, he’d instructed the driver to keep the car close in case Rey needed to leave, for which she is insanely grateful. She probably shouldn’t be running, not in her shoes or overall condition, but it feels like her skin is going to split open if she doesn’t _get out of there_.

Rey tumbles into the backseat of the car and slams the door shut. Trembling, she tells Mr. Ermete, “Take me home, please. I feel quite ill.”

He says of course, and thankfully, the car starts moving. Rey presses her forehead to the window-glass. The cold of the glass is grounding. And it’s raining again, droplets of water sliding down the window of the car. She watches the world pass away through the car’s side-mirror.

And a figure appears behind her in the middle of the road, standing in the rain.

 _Ben_.

He’d come after her.

A wretched, ragged sob tears itself from her throat. Her stomach clenches painfully and she tightens her hands into fists, fingernails biting at her palms. The cords in her throat strain, begging her to say something, tell Ermete to turn around or even just stop the car. Then she remembers the woman at Ben’s side and her mouth tightens and she swallows the words. He doesn’t deserve anything. He doesn’t deserve to know. He doesn’t.

And maybe he came after her, but only lackluster, only the way he ever had. He never tried that much. He never really cared. No one ever really did.

Rey settles her hands across her stomach again and forces back her tears, refuses to let them fall. She swore a month ago she’d never cry over him again. She has bigger reasons to cry now.

 

 

viii.

It’s well past midnight when Rey is woken by a frantic pounding on her door. She’d gone to bed as soon as she’d gotten home from the premiere about two hours ago. Jess still lives with her, though Rey refuses to let her pay rent on the fairly modest two-bedroom house an hour out of Hollywood. Really, Jess is doing her a favor. It’s not good for Rey to be alone with her thoughts too much.

So when whoever starts knocking, Jess pokes her head out into the hallway and calls, “Rey? Are you home? What’s going on?”

Rey grabs her dressing-gown and stumbles out of her room. “I’m fine,” she says. “Someone’s here. I’ll get the door, don’t worry about it.”

Jess disappears for a brief second and emerges with her dressing-gown tied around her waist. “You’re insane if you think I’ll just go back to bed right now. I’m coming too.”

Secretly, Rey is grateful. It really could be anyone at that door. Though people don’t know her yet, not the way they know Ben, she is wise enough to be frightened.

The person is yelling something, too. “Rey! Rey! Rey, please answer me. Talk to me, please, Rey. Rey, Rey, Rey,” he keeps calling with every knock of his fist. And she knows that voice. She’s heard it say (whisper, groan, shout) her name into her hair enough. Of course. Who else could it be, honestly?

She opens the door and says tiredly, “Ben, what are you doing here? Just go home.”

“No,” he says stubbornly. “I have to talk to you.”

Rey leans into the wall. “What could you possibly have to say to me? We had fun. We moved on.” _Or you did_ , she doesn’t say. “It’s over.” _That’s what you wanted, isn’t it_ , she doesn’t say either.

“ _No_. It’s _not_ over.” She raises her eyebrows, and he backtracks, “I mean... I don’t want it to be over. If you do...” Pain flashes across his face, but he shakes his head a little and continues, “that’s fine, but I have to tell you... I _have_ to talk to you.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Rey asks archly. Coldly.

“No,” Ben says firmly. “The girl at the premiere... I just didn’t want to go alone.” He ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck. “Maia, she’s actually Maia Skywalker, my cousin.”

Rey can’t help the laugh that escapes her. Who... did that, aside from Ben? Oddly enough, it was very much a _him_ thing to do. Then her head goes light, and she remembers why she can’t... She can’t. “Why did you do that?” she accuses, jabbing a finger at him. “Why did you tell me we were nothing?” It feels like broken glass biting at her stomach, to remember how she’d felt that night, and she pushes at his chest. “Why wouldn’t you go anywhere with me? Why?” Her control devolves and she’s almost yelling at him at the end, screaming to know why as she repeats that word over and over again, tears running down her face as she keeps pushing at him. He grabs her wrists and she collapses into him, crying, brokenly muttering “why, why, why, why, why...”

“Can we go inside, sweetheart?” Ben asks her gently. He’d let go of her wrists the instant she’d fallen into him, and now, one hand cradles her hair while his other arm is wrapped around her waist, stabilizing her. “We should go inside. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles.

He sweeps her up into his arms like she weighs nothing, one arm under her knees and one under her shoulders, and carries her inside. When he sees Jess, he stops in his tracks. “Oh,” he says. “Have you been here the whole time?”

Rey giggles wetly into his neck, and he very carefully sets her down on the sofa in her front room.

Jess smiles. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, I have. Rey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, go back to bed,” Rey says, waving her hand. “I’m fine.”

Jess’s eyes don’t leave Ben. She knows everything, of course, and Rey can tell she’s doing her best to make that plain on her face. “Call if you need anything,” she says, and then she leaves.

It’s just Rey and Ben. _Like it should be_ , something inside her whispers.

He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. “I owe you an explanation,” he says, not quite meeting her eyes.

Rey’s hands cover her stomach. “I think we both have some explaining to do.” And she looks at him carefully. “You can come sit down, if you want.” _Please_ , she thinks but doesn’t add.

He crosses to the couch and sits next to her, close, but still far too far. “I never,” he says-- stammers, “I never meant... I never meant for this to happen.” Almost beseechingly, he looks up at her, dark eyes pleading. Rey has to close hers. “I know you thought this was always supposed to be casual.” Her eyes fly open and her lips part. “I know I was getting too attached, trying to protect you, being...” Ben shakes his head, like he can’t even think about it. “Well, you know. But I couldn’t help it, Rey. Rey, I... I love you.”

How can she do anything but stare? All this time... and _he_ _loves_ _her_? “Ben,” she whispers, but he doesn’t hear. “I know, you don’t feel the same way, and that’s fine. I just had to tell you.” And he won’t look at her again, eyes trained firmly on the ground.

Her breath catches on an odd little thing, some mix between a hiccup and a sob. “Silly man,” she breathes. “How could I not love you?”

Startled, his eyes flash up to meet hers, filled with shock and something edging on hope. “You... you...”

Rey lifts herself up from the sofa and moves to him, wraps her arms around his neck, sets herself in his lap. “I love you.” He inhales sharply, face full of amazement and wonder and something tender his eyes have always held any time he sees her. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she says, lips curled with a smile born of relief and joy. “I thought you didn’t want anything more.”

One of his hands cups her cheek, and he repeats, “How could I not love you?”

He kisses her.

It’s nothing like she thought it might be, when she dared let herself dream. It’s messy, and wet from both of their tears, and for all of that, it’s better, because it’s no dream. She’s never tasted anything sweeter than his lips in this moment, and her heart could burst out of her chest, she’s so happy.

Then his hand shifts up under her nightgown to rest on her bare hip, so close to her stomach, and she flinches, her happiness not _gone_ , exactly, but a knot of nervousness forming in her stomach and trapping it there.

“Sweetheart,” Ben says, smoothing her hair back, “are you okay?”

She bites her lip. “Remember... remember I said we both had explaining to do?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Yes.”

Slowly, eyes filling with tears, heart pumping with terror, she takes his hand under her shift and leans back so she can place his hand on her rounding stomach. “The last time we were together... I, um. I just found out a few days ago, and I... I didn’t know how to tell you-- I didn’t know if you would want to know, even, and,” she laughs a little sharply, “I guess I still don’t know how to tell you.”

Ben’s eyes rest tender on her, the softest thing she’s ever felt. “Whatever it is,” he promises, and she thinks he already knows. “Whatever it is, we can handle it.”

“I’m pregnant,” she says, and he’s laughing and crying and he pulls her up and bends down to kiss her stomach, and she’s crying too, hands laced in his hair. “I was so scared. Heaven and hell, Ben, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was so scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, smoothing the tears off her face. “You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to be afraid at all. I’m here. I’m here.”

She kisses him, sweet and quick. “I know.” And she kisses him again. “I know, I know. I love you.”

Ben smiles at her, hands still on her stomach. “I love you too. Both of you.”

 

 

ix.

She stands at the window, looking out on the backyard darkened by the night. Her husband comes up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, buries his face in the crook of her neck.

“Hi, honey. How was work?” Rey asks, her smile evident in her voice.

“Hell,” Ben says into her skin. “I couldn’t wait to come home to you.”

“I think Eliora missed you,” she says, cuddling the tiny newborn girl in her arms closer to her chest. She lifts her daughter up and Ben leans down and kisses her on the head.

“I missed her too.”

Rey hums and leans back against Ben’s chest, content to be in the moment. “I think this is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Me too,” he says. “I just didn’t know it until I met you. You made my wildest dreams come true.” 

She turns in his arms, laughing. “Don’t be cheesy.”

“You love it.” He kisses her.

“No,” Rey corrects. “I love you.”

He smiles and presses his forehead to hers, reaching up to cradle their daughter’s head too, stroking her baby-soft, downy head. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


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